


Plans

by reallynotsure



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Homophobia, M/M, Running Away, i dont know what to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallynotsure/pseuds/reallynotsure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis makes plans that he doesn't stick to and Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo okay this is the second fic I've published in about 6 or 7 years, so this might be a bit rusty. I haven't written properly in months and I'm only just getting back into the groove of things.
> 
> Sorry if there are any mistakes or screw ups in this fic, I promise I can actually spell, it's just that I always get really critical of myself when I'm editing so I try to keep it minimal, thus often missing some errors.
> 
> Please leave kudos and/or comments, they make me happy.
> 
> Thaaaank you

They start planning their escape in early autumn when the school year has barely begun, sitting perched on the outdated salmon pink counter in Harry’s tiny kitchen, passing a jar of pickles back and forth between the two of them.

“After we graduate, that’s when we’ll do it.” Louis says lightly, tugging his fist out from under the lip of the jar after it got stuck when he grabbed a gherkin. He pops it in his mouth with a slurp and laughs when Harry feigns a gag and elbows him in the ribs.

He pretends Louis’ obnoxiousness annoys him, but Louis knows that’s not true.

“Awful.” Harry mutters with the shake of his head, tipping the jar on its side to better reach one of the pickles floating around. He can’t stick his entire hand in like Louis can.

“Am not. But after graduation, yes? We’ll go?” Louis asks, scooting closer into Harry’s side with a hopeful little smile on his face.

Harry takes a bite out of his pickle after dipping it in some hot English mustard, which makes Louis’ face contort and wrinkle in disgust.

Harry shrugs, nodding his head with a kind of uncaring ease. “After graduation.” He confirms.

-

Harry didn’t think Louis really meant it, but when the first snow of the season falls light and barely-there days before Christmas, melting as soon as it lands on Harry’s rosy red cheeks, he brings it up again.

“Does it snow much in London?” Louis asks, his shorter frame tucked against Harry’s back, standing on his toes with his chin jutted over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry hesitates for a moment, the truth of the situation bouncing around his mind. _We’ll never be able to afford a place in London, Lou,_ he thinks.

He doesn’t say that to Louis though. He just says, “A bit, usually after Christmas. Not as much as up here.”

That seems to satisfy Louis, because he sighs happily, curling himself back into Harry’s warm back. He nestles his faces between his shoulder blades and wraps his arms around his waist from behind, squeezing tight.

-

Harry thought nothing of it in the beginning. Louis had always been the type to optimistically make these outlandish, amazing plans that would never make it off the ground. Harry thinks that Louis knows this, that his plans never go anywhere, but he doesn’t want to mention it, just in case he doesn’t.

When Harry was fifteen, it was X Factor. _We’ll audition when you’re older, Haz_ , he had said, all wide smiles and bright, excited eyes, _You can sing that corny song you’ve been listening to non-stop for three weeks and you’ll get through and probably bloody win, knowing your luck_ , Louis would laugh, giving one of Harry’s nipples a playful jab.

They never did audition. They watched that season as a boy - Luke, or Liam, or some name like that - who was their age with a strong voice and a Justin Bieber haircut went on to win, Simon lifting him off his feet into a hug as the confetti rained down, just as both Harry and Louis had always wanted.

Harry didn’t mind, though. He’d gotten used to it, over the years. Louis loved to dream, loved to look ahead, think of all the things he could never have. All Harry could do was smile and nod as Louis rambled on about all of the places they’d see, things they’d do together.

-

By the time spring rolls around and the trees start growing their leaves back, Louis still hasn’t moved on to his next big, exciting plan.

“I can’t wait to leave. There’ll be better plays on in London anyway.” Louis snaps, pouting as he swings open Harry’s bedroom door, twenty minutes late to their weekly movie night. He plops himself down beside Harry on his single bed, pressing in close and resting his heavy head down on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry makes a confused little humming sound, wrapping Louis up tight and pulling him in close. His eyes had been fluttering shut when he’d heard Louis stomping up the staircase.

“Mark hates me.” Louis mutters sadly, worrying his bottom lip between his sharp little teeth.

Harry tuts, giving Louis a pinch on the bum. “What’s he done?”

“Won’t let me audition for Grease.” Louis says quietly, tearing open the bag of crisps Harry had on his bedside table in preparation for watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off, shoving a few in his mouth. “‘M not even his kid, why does he think he can boss me ‘round?”

Louis’ accent always becomes more prominent when he’s cross. And when he’s got a mouth full of food.

“Why won’t he let you?” Harry asks with a furrowed brow. Louis had yelled and hooted when he got word of the next play the school was putting on from his drama teacher, jumping around Harry in circles, clapping and laughing.

“Dunno. I said at tea that I was gonna audition and he just said no. No explanation, just a _no, Louis, no. You will not._ He’s such a cock. Mum didn’t even say anything. ‘S not fair.” Louis says, tugging the throw rug at the foot of Harry’s bed up over his shoulders.

Harry thinks he knows why Mark doesn’t want Louis to audition, but he doesn’t say anything. Louis thinks Mark stops him from auditioning for plays and productions because _he just hates seeing me have fun_ , but Harry doesn’t agree. He still doesn’t say anything. He loves Louis too much to say anything.

-

When Louis and Harry finish their exams and the excitement of graduation nearing engulfs their entire grade, Harry starts to get anxious.

Louis wants this, needs this. Harry wants it as well, wants to get out of this smothering little city and live somewhere big where no one he passes in the street would know him.

Harry doesn’t have anything to his name, all he has is a wardrobe full of ripped old flannels and a shitty little car he got from his nan that barely works on the best of days. He barely manages to scrape together his rent working at the bakery, the older lady who owns the shop often leaving a bag of unsold loaves and buns out for him to take home.

The only thing he has of any worth anymore is his bank account, filled with the tens of thousands of dollars of inheritance from his mum. But locked that will stay until the day he turns twenty-one, because his own mother didn’t trust him with it.

-

The night after graduation, Harry gets a call from Louis.

He’s just locked up the bakery and is walking out to his car when his phone begins to vibrate in his hand.

“‘Lo?” He answers, trying to slip his key into his car door in the dark parking lot.

“Harry, you need to come get me!” Louis yells, rushed and crying.

Harry drops his keys to the pavement, his heart rate speeding to a gallop. “Louis? Louis, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” He questions hurriedly, crouching down onto his haunches to aimlessly palm at the asphalt in search of his keys, hissing out a quick fuck when Louis cries louder.

“I told Mark, I told him, Harry, we need to leave, please come get me, please!” Louis’ voice sounds shrill and distorted through the phone. Harry finally feels his keys when he hears a far away shout through the phone, Louis sucking in a haggard, shaky breath.

“What did you tell him, Lou?” Harry rushes, throwing open the door to his car and tossing the bag of loaves into the passenger seat as he starts the engine up.

“That we’re together. He’s so mad, Harry, please, you need to come get me.” Louis cries, quieter now, voice lowering to a whisper.

“I’m coming, Louis. Pack your things. I’m coming.” Harry orders, ending the call as he speeds down the main road on his way to Louis’, tires screeching.

-

Louis is crouched between his bed and the wall when he hears a car honk outside, Mark’s voice still barking at him from the hallway.

He leaps up, peeking through a gap in his blinds as he gathers his things together. Harry’s car has narrowly avoided flattening their letterbox, and he sees that Harry is storming up towards the front door with his fists clenched.

Louis pushes the blinds aside, clicking the lock on his window and sliding it open. Harry notices and runs over to stand under it, brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

Louis starts crying again as he tosses a bag down and hears Mark yell out again, Harry catching it and tossing it aside to lift his arms for Louis. “Climb down.” He hisses.

Louis wipes at his blurry eyes with his sleeve, lifting one leg to scoot his way out the window, clinging to whatever he can get his hands on as he edges his way further down the brick facade.

He jumps the last metre and lands right in Harry’s arms, already being squeezed tight and rushed away to his waiting car.

“Jesus, Lou.” Harry curses, pressing a firm kiss to Louis’ head before shoving him in the backseat with his bag, Louis muttering a weak little, “I thought they’d be okay with it,” as Harry rushes around to start the car.

Louis just lies down, clutching his backpack to his chest, and cries.

-

By dawn, Louis’ in the front seat with a McDonald's tea warming up his hands, Harry’s got his own bags in the trunk with Louis’, and they’re driving down the M1 on their way to London.


End file.
